Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 15

 

Sacred Scrolls; Chapter 15

© 2021 by Amber Wright

THE COUNCIL

Junia stared through her veil of tears, her chin resting on her mother’s shoulder, and inside she groaned with regret. If only she had not promised Demetrius she would not tell—then today he would have been free and his good name restored to him. But in Lydia, a promise was held sacred and always kept. Always.

In a flash, her disturbing dream from days ago stole back into her mind, ‘Take him away. Do what I have commanded. Carry out my orders.’ The words made her struggle for air, her heartbeat thunder. Then his flesh was ripped, his blood began to flow, his head hung onto the post…and his life ended. No, God, please don’t let this happen! Not to Demetrius—not to anyone. She clamped one hand over her mouth and nose to steady her jagged breathing; then, she took slow breaths to calm her racing heartbeat. It was only a matter of time now before her dream would come to pass.

It was so unfair…unjust.

It would not be the death of Demetrius’ body, Junia knew, but it would be the death of his spirit. Her thoughts whirled in confusion. Why had one come into the realms of God only to be cast out of it by man’s injustice? Had man power over God? They did not—but why must they act as if they did? Thoughts jumbled into nothingness as her chin trembled against her mother’s shoulder and salty tears continued to drip down both cheeks. Silently, she mourned for her friend as if he was her only brother.

“Junia,” her mother spoke softly, “we can only trust God for the outcome. God promised to be with us—and He never breaks His promise either. Trust God, my dear.”

But I’ve been trusting Him for so long, Junia bit in her anguished reply. When will these clouds pass, my Pah’tehr? She heard a silent answer, Wait. See what will happen. God will fulfill His plan for you, Junia…and for Demetrius.

~

“The charges have been laid before you, Demetrius Aenos.”

Demetrius stared back at his accuser, Deacon Abner. His eyes looked as frosty as his voice sounded.

“What do you have to say? Do you admit your sin and plead guilty, or will you further rebel in your obstinate way and plead innocent?”

Demetrius felt his brows wrinkle deeper as he sat there, having listened to their groundless charges against him. Not a single time had they caught him with any money around the church. Only their presumptions were his guilt. He had sat there—for hours, it seemed—listening to Deacon Abner list his “sins” of the recent weeks. Now, he tried to make some sort of sense out of all those empty words. But he could not. He sat there, confused.

“Your answer, Demetrius.” Deacon Demas strolled past to sneer down at him.

“My answer?” Demetrius flung his hands out and shot him a hard stare filled with unspoken words.

Deacon Demas knew why he was there for he had put him there. Demas needed the money to pay off his debt and to rid himself of his secret past—Demetrius, his son. The church would never suspect their own deacon for robbery.

“Yes, your answer for the charges of theft.” Deacon Demas’ thin nostrils flared, his neck arching to one side.

“Do you plead guilty or innocent, Demetrius?” Deacon Abner’s voice was flat and impatient. “Once and for all, your answer.”

The truth, Demetrius—tell them the truth. But his mind shot back to the words of his father when he last spoke to him, You tell, you die. You all shall die, every Christian in Lydia! If you tell the truth… He forced a swallow.

“My answer…is this.” Demetrius blew out his breath as he glanced around the council with blank feeling eyes. “I plead,” he forced another swallow, “guilty.”

Complete silence settled over the room.

And now, how he felt so guilty. The lie would hang over his head until the truth would set him free…some day. Would there ever be some day? He looked up from the floor at his accusers—at those around him—feeling the weight of their stares pierce into him as a thousand arrows. He nearly repented his words—to set him free—but stopped. What of them? Their life would end when his lips of truth would speak. He asked himself if being wounded would always be his fate in life. His spirit may die and wither away, but he would not let his brethren die because of him.

Demetrius felt his face twist from inner pain. “Does that now satisfy you?”

“Ah yes, Demetrius.” Deacon Demas said in a lilting tone as he strolled past him again. “Now you will only have to return the money and all will be forgiven.”

“But I can’t. I-I don’t have it!”

“Where is the money at, Demetrius Aenos?” Bishop Diotrephes furrowed his gray eyebrows at him from his high seat.

“I—” Demetrius gulped wildly and lied, “I spent it.”

A horrified murmur rippled through the room.

“You will have to repay every cent of it, young man.” Bishop Diotrephes said sternly. “It was the Lord’s money you took. May God have mercy on your poor soul!”

“I’ll pay it.” Demetrius hung his head, ashamed of having had to lie to save his life and the lives of the church along with its reputation. He pinned a stare at Bishop Diotrephes. If you only knew I was saving your life, I wonder if you’d be so judgmental. “I’ll pay it all. Just give me time.”

~

Outside, a young man and Andronika were walking past the weaver’s shop, knowing what was happening in the upper room where the Christians met for church and councils.

“Poor Demetrius is having his council,” Alexander looked up, squinting in the sun. “I thought Christians were just.”

“I know some who are.” Andronika thought back to her council and took a brisk breath. “My friend is a Christian and she is just, even if nobody else is. But Alexander,” she raised an eyebrow in surprise, “how do you know this Demetrius?”

“I met up with him again last evening. We first met in Ephesus. His father was a silversmith during the time Paul preached there. You know about Paul, the man who was beheaded?”

Andronika nodded.

“Demetrius’ father was named Demetrius then but he changed his name when he fled Ephesus to escape capture.”

“What did he do?” Andronika’s eyes widened. She knew too well the story of Demetrius the silversmith leading a riot against the Apostle Paul and nearly killing him.

“Stole money from the temple of Diana. Although he has a new name, his past continues.” He nodded in the direction of the upper room. “And now he not only steals, but lies.”

“How do you know all this?”

“My father and Demetrius the Elder used to be friends in Ephesus. They often exchanged trade ideas—although my father was only a coppersmith, not a silversmith.”

Andronika felt her heartbeat jar. Alexander’s father had been a coppersmith in Ephesus? During Paul’s time? “Is your father’s name Alexander—like yours?”

“Yes.” Alexander lowered his half-squinted eyes. “We share the name.”

~

Junia sat on the first step of the stairway in the dimly lit entrance of their villa, chewing her thumbnail, anxiously waiting for her father to return from the council. She had prayed until her head grew numb from using all the words she could think to say. Now she waited.

A tread of footsteps scraped against the stone walkway of their front garden. She jumped up and waited for the door to open. In stepped her father, slumped shouldered and looking fatigued. Junia took a few steps towards him, her eyes flickering along with the unsteady light of the oil lamp.

“He pleaded guilty,” her father said simply. “But he said he is going to pay it all. All is well. You can go to sleep now.”

Junia nodded, too choked to speak, and fled up the steps two at a time. Had her prayers not worked? She threw herself onto her bed and began to sob. God, where are You? I thought You said if we would ask, You would give. Please! The silent answer came once more, Wait.

But she cried the more, Haven’t I been waiting long enough, Lord? How can You let a guilty man go free? How long must I wait until You answer? My Pah’tehr… Inside, her heart ached, felt so broken. Inside, she was torn, questioning and yet still trusting but confused. Why had this happened? Did God not see the innocent man take the blame of the guilty man?

A voice seemed to whisper back a second reply, I took the place of the guilty man. You were the guilty one. I took your place. I died for you. You will see this is my Plan, Junia, and you will also see what great things I will do for you…and for Demetrius. And then that voice silenced and Junia was left to her darkest night to wrestle the darkness within her.

~

“He came up with the money soon enough.” Junius Gaius told the other deacons as Junia stepped into their living room. “That was commendable of him.”

“But now we shall see if he will repent of this matter.” Deacon Demas looked peeved. “He still hasn’t spoken a single word of an apology, if we remember correctly.”

Junia bit down onto her lip while her father spoke in a decided tone, “I should think the returned money is apology enough.” He took a cup of water from her tray.

“I still think that he should apologize.” Deacon Demas insisted, picking up his cup of water. He looked sharply up at her. “No poison in here, is there?”

Junia caught her laugh just in time, answering coolly, “No, sir. It’s only plain water—good for the mind.”

The empty tray fell to her side and she quickly left the room. She could tell Deacon Demas was still angry with her for last week. Or was he still angry for some other reason? Or was he guilty? That is, if he still had a conscience left after what he had done.

She entered the hall when one word stopped her. Robber. Lucius had spoken it. Instantly, she felt her brows knit as she narrowed her eyes, listening at the doorway. She wanted to know what Lucius was saying this time. He had a fantastic way of getting people into trouble by telling happenings in an exaggerated way.

“…Saw Demetrius with him when the merchant’s stall was robbed.”

Figured he’d be their culprit. Will they ever leave him alone? Junia clenched her jaws. It’s a wonder he still comes to church after all this rotten mess! The council had still not decided whether or not to cast Demetrius out. He had returned the money without a grumble, they had agreed, but Deacon Demas still insisted Demetrius should leave. She scowled at the doorpost, balling her left fist and tightening her grip on the tray dangling at her side.

Without listening for the rest—which she undoubtedly knew would be bad news or exaggerated gossip, Junia turned in direction of the kitchen where she would put away the tray. And then she would go to Judith’s house so she could escape Lucius’ and Deacon Demas’ poisoning words. Besides, she needed a good walk to settle her tight nerves. Things were getting too complicated now. What did tomorrow hold?

~

Junia rapped on the door of Judith’s house for the seventh time, throwing the end of her blue veil over her shoulder. No answer. She stopped knocking and stepped into the street from the garden, closing the gate behind her. So much for her escaping to her friend’s house when nobody was there. Perfect timing, Judith. Then she turned.

A hooded man was watching her from across the street.

A Few Greek Words:

Fil'os: friend

Meh'tehr: mother

Pah'tehr: father

Adher'fi: sister

Adher'fos: brother